Case Number 07811: Small Claims Court

The Pixies: Sell Out

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All Rise...

Judge Bill Gibron was talking to preachy-preach about kissy-kiss. Preachy bought Bill a soda and tried to molest him in the parking lot. That still didn't dissuade either from enjoying this amazing reunion concert from the seminal "alternative" titans.

Editor's Note

The Charge

This monkey's gone to heaven.

The Case

The Pixies were perhaps the oddest band ever to achieve off-the-radar God
status. Certainly, their music was the most mysterious. A crazy combination of
noise and nuance, pop efficiency, and extraterrestrial lyricism, they seemed at
once the most experimental of groups as well as one that was deceptively
primordial. The setup was just plain unfussy. Bassist Kim Deal would pound out
basic notes on her instrument, while drummer David Lovering accented them with a
straightforward snare. The rhythm was tight, and the bottom was heavy and
strong.

But then Black Francis, or Frank Black (or Charles Thompson, his real name),
the portly front man of the band would start to strum his idiosyncratic chord
combinations, and the tune would begin to twist. Guitar virtuoso Joe Santiago
then added his signature sonic strangeness over the mix, and suddenly the music
became something recognizable and repellant, like a rock station received by the
SETI project listening device. Thompson's strangled
David-Byrne-meets-David-Lynch vocals furthered the far-out feel to the sonic
surreality.

It was an offhand comment by Nirvana seer Kurt Cobain that really saw the
band's critical fortunes rise. At once, the band's ballooning stardom reached
nuclear proportions. Name-checking the Boston-based quartet as the reason his
band existed, Cobain pointed to the Pixies music as the stolen foundation for
his own punk/pop sound (especially "Smell Like Teen Spirit"). Before
you could say "Courtney Love," the Pixies were placed at the head of
the alternative music class, and singlehandedly awarded the keys to the kingdom
of inspiration.

They should have enjoyed the success. But they were not a video-friendly
combo, and shunned the spotlight as much as the public wanted them in it.
Thompson and Deal began to systematically fight over artistic control (a
songwriter herself, Deal hated having her music continuously rejected). Soon,
they were barely speaking. Eventually, after several years and four amazing
albums, the group called it quits. Solo projects loomed (The Breeders for Deal,
a new career for the re-christened "Frank Black" Thompson), and when
asked about a possible reunion, there were no smart-ass sentiments about Hell
freezing over. According to Deal and Thompson, it was never going to fucking
happen—EVER!

Well, welcome to never ever. In 2004, the Pixies made the surprising
statement that they would be reuniting for a series of "warmup"
dates—kind of chance to get reacquainted with one another and see if they
could even work together. These shows turned out to be so successful that a
full-blown world tour was booked, and before you knew it, it was 1989 all over
again. Selling out wherever they played, the Pixies were still tentative and
tense. It appeared as if, at any given moment, the vibe of goodwill and
gratefulness would turn ugly and unruly, and fans lined up for what may have
been the last glimpse of their gods in service (or a meltdown in front of
thousands of witnesses). For those who could not attend, we have this new DVD
souvenir from Rhino. Containing more than 30 classic Pixies songs, culled from
several sensational performances, this is what live concert films are all
about—great music, played with gusto and drive by an exceptional band,
captured by a production team that expertly recreates the setting and the
show.

The disc is divided up into two main sections. The first is a full-length
concert from the Eurockeennes Festival in Belfort, France. It contains the
following musical favorites:

The first thing you notice about the Pixies is how completely
anti-rock-and-roll they really are. Santiango could pass for a guitarist, and
Lovering looks comfortable behind the drum kit, but Thompson and Deal are like
high school science teachers on a strange sonic sabbatical. A little dumpier, a
lot older, and seemingly more mature than when they used to taunt their
audiences from the stage (they were known to occasionally bring their personal
problems into the show), these Pixies become the pioneers that Kurt Cobain
championed all those years ago. They prove their mantle over and over again, as
their mind-bending music still seems decades ahead of the tired and well-trodden
towers of the current plaintive pop charts. What's even more astonishing is
their ability to re-create their complex and cacophonous sound live. Anyone who
owns a Pixies album knows that something like "Subbacultcha" sounds
nothing like "Here Comes Your Man" or "Cactus," and yet the
band effortlessly switches sonic gears each time to bring life to their classic
tracks.

Sadly, there is no new music here, which does give the show a kind of retro
revivalist feel. Many could accuse the group of doing this reunion for the
eventual cash grab (they would deserve it, considering the number of middling
acts that made millions off their style after the group fell apart), but you get
the sense that these shows were a kind of therapy for the band. Thompson is
still the clear, crazed leader, running the show with his nearly nonstop
performing (Deal only gets two moments to shine solo). But the rest of the band
appears happy to play their part, accenting the songs with their undeniable
aural signatures. Indeed, anyone who thinks the Pixies would be just as
acceptable with studio musicians backing Thompson would be foolish. It is
Santiago's sensational axe runs, Deal's direct bass lines, and Lovering's
rhythmic flourishes that give these tunes their intricacy and intensity. Someone
perhaps could re-create it, but it would be imitation only.

About the only negative aspect of this presentation is the lack of material
from the Pixies' final two albums. Bossanova only gets a single song,
while Trompe le Monde gets a pair. It is wonderful that they included so
much material from their first EP, Come On, Pilgrim, but songs like
"Alec Eiffel," "Dig for Fire," and "Distance Equals
Rate Times Time" are sorely missed. In addition, the Pixies are a very
journeyman-like group, and their stage show is nothing more than 90 minutes of
music. No joking, no banter between them and the crowd—just song after
memorable song. Yet these are minor quibbles in what becomes a permanent
testament to the power and the glory that was—and now apparently is
the Pixies. Here's hoping they keep it together long enough to release some new
material. In the sad state of affairs that is the current music scene, a nice
shot of outright weirdness would do the place some good.

Rhino should be proud of this DVD presentation. The concert is offered in a
1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen image that appears to be a film transfer of a
digital or HD original. This lends the visuals a kind of fuzzy, hazy feel as if
passing through another generation of element before presentation. We do get
occasional flaring and some strange color-correction issues (Thompson has some
odd red splotches on his head during a couple of songs). However, the picture is
professional, and since the direction is so skilled, we really don't mind the
sporadic murkiness.

On the sound side, we get a Dolby Digital Stereo 5.1 Surround mix that does
its best to recreate the concert setting. While there are some issues with voice
and speaker placement (Deal does sound out of place at times), the overall aural
offering is excellent. We get a nice balance between instruments, and the crowd
noise and spatial ambience really accentuate the live feel. The bass is a bit
underdone, but overall, this is a wonderful decibel delight.

The best part of this package, however, is the bonus material. Consisting of
15 additional tracks (seven of which do NOT appear in the 2004 show) and some
intermittent interview clips with the Pixies management and stage crew (no band
members, sadly), this is still an excellent showcase of the band's depth and
skill. Songs like "Is She Weird?," "Debaser," and
"Nimrod's Song" sound great. Taken from shows all over the tour
(everywhere from Japan to Texas to a homecoming show in Beantown), this final
facet of the DVD helps to complete the Pixies concert story.

While it could have had more band information (this is not a Behind the
Music style exposé)—or just a few words from the group about the
reunion, The Pixies—Sell Out is still a must-own title for any fan
of these ferociously fun freaks. This is music that matters, played in the
manner in which it is most effective—with tens of thousands of salivating
devotees singing along. If you want to know what Cobain was on about, or just
need a refresher in why the "alternative" scene was, at one time, the
most vital in modern music, this concert will provide all the proof you need. It
is a landmark experience from an equally influential act.